A Home For The Children
by La Hija de la Luna
Summary: A young couple has lost the fight against infertility. After many failed rounds of fertility treatment they decide to adopt a child. Over the years, their life changes, as they end up taking care of six severely traumatized children. AH, OOC. This story deals with subject of physical, mental and sexual child abuse. If these themes make uncomfortable, please do not read.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Stephenie Meyer owns the characters, but the storyline is a product of my crazy, overactive mind.

_a·dopt: To take into one's family through legal means and raise as one's own child. _(The Free Online Dictionary)

**Chapter 1: Our Child**

Do you know what it´s like when you´re scared of phones? Your cellphone, the house phone, just any phone can destroy the happiness that you´ve so desperately tried to build for yourself and your significant other. You see, me and my husband, we haven´t had the easiest ride in the thing called marriage. Four years ago we were almost at the breaking point, ready to file for a divorce.

_All I could see was the white coat. The name tag that read ´Dr. Gerandy´. The pen that was tugged away in the chest pocket of the oh-so-white lab coat. _

"_I´m sorry that I´m late. I just had to check on a patient. So, Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Cullen, what can I do for you today?" The doctor asked after letting us into his office._

"_My wife and I, we´re here for some advice, an objective medical opinion, if you will. Esme just went through her fourth fertility treatment and the results were disappointing to say the least. We´ve been disagreeing on whether or not we should try again. I don´t think it´s healthy for her to try anymore," Carlisle explained calmly, as if all of this was not affecting him at all. _

_That´s what he had been like for the last month. His calm exterior was almost eerie, because I was certain that inside he was feeling the same grief as I was over yet another failed try at fertility treatment._

"_I´m sorry, Mrs. Cullen, but I have to agree with your husband. I would not recommend another round of the treatment for you. The stress that another treatment would cause your body, might be too much for it to handle," the doctor´s words sounded so far way that I could barely hear them._

Six years ago we found out that we couldn´t get pregnant. Four years ago we heard that fertility treatments would not be the way for us to get a child. The weeks following the visit at Dr. Gerandy´s office, all we did was fight. We fought about every little thing and the fear of our marriage not surviving the infertility gnawed at both of us. We were almost ready to get a divorce, but our love seemed to be strong enough to hold us together. We started couples´ therapy and after just six months, things started to get better. Another three months later we were done with the therapy and happier than ever before in our marriage. We were happy but still childless.

For a year, we looked into different options. We came to the conclusion that adoption might be the right thing for us. The thought of being foster parents and living in fear of losing the children that came to live with us, terrified both me and Carlisle too much.

So we started to preparations for becoming adoptive parents to a child in the foster care system. We enrolled in several training courses, went through countless home check-ups and interviews but it was all worth it, because after the ordeal we were allowed to adopt.

And this is how we ended up to this point where we fear our phones. We enquired about a 1-year-old who was abandoned by his parents at birth. He had spent his first year in a foster home and the couple was supposed to adopt him, but their biological daughter was diagnosed with leukemia and they didn´t think that going through with the adoption process would be wise in their situation. Now the child protective services were looking for a family who would be willing to adopt the child. I was anxious, because I knew that any time the phone rang we might get new information about the boy and whether or not we were chosen to be his family.

Days went by and we heard nothing from the CPS. Carlisle worked a lot, sometimes even doing double shifts at the hospital. I got an interesting job offer myself – a young couple who had just moved to Forks had heard about my work and wanted me to do the interior designing for their new home. I was, however, unwilling to start a new project because I knew that if we were chosen to be the boy´s family, I would have to stop working, at least for a while.

It was Monday, the 9th of March, when we got the call. The lady on the other end introduced herself as Anne Sanders and told me that she was a social worker who worked for the CPS.

"I´m the new case worker on the Harry Andrews case. Mrs. Delaware had to take some leave to address some personal issues. Anyway, I´m sorry but I have to inform you that the CPS doesn´t think that you were the best fit for Harry. He is going to be sent to live with a family who lives in Seattle. They – we think that it´s a good environment for the child," Miss Sanders spoke in one long sentence, not even stopping to breathe. She seemed to be eager to get the bad news out and end the call. And the worst thing was how totally uncaring she sounded. She didn´t seem to care about the boy for she sounded one hundred percent indifferent as she babbled on about the city being the best environment for Harry.

After yet another ´I am sorry´ and a hurried goodbye, which were about as fake as her concern for Harry, Miss Sanders ended the call. The receiver felt slippery on my hand as I put it down. My legs gave out and I crumbled into a sobbing heap on the kitchen floor. Carlisle, who had heard my cries, came running down the stairs.

"What´s wrong, love? Why are you crying?" he sounded panicked but I couldn´t find the strength to look up and meet his gaze.

"The social s-services… They called a-a-and… said that it w-we are n-not going to b-be Harry´s parents," I managed to get out through clenched teeth. It hurt so badly. Adoption would be our last chance of getting a child and even that was not going to work since there was, and always would be, a better family for the child.

"Oh, I´m so sorry, my love. We just have to keep trying. I just know that there is a child out there who needs us just like we need them. Maybe Harry just wasn´t meant to be our baby boy, but our child is somewhere out there," Carlisle whispered, holding me close. I could feel moisture in my hair and from that I knew that he was crying too. This was just as hard for him as it was for me and I knew that he wanted a child just as badly as I did. We sat there, holding each other on kitchen floor, for a very long time. We were trying to come to terms with yet another failed attempt to build a family. But still I was more certain than ever that, just like Carlisle had said, our child was out there. We would just have to find him.

During the following six months we were turned down on three other enquiries. Two little girls and one 10-year-old boy were sent to other families. But we didn´t give up. We sent out an enquiry after another. I still refused to take on new houses to work on and Carlisle worked less, too. The time that we took off from work went to trying to find our child.

It was a cold morning in early November when our house phone rang. I answered very formally, wondering who it might be.

"Hello, Mrs. Cullen, my name is Lindsey Stewart and I work with the social services. I´m a case worker and I have this one boy who I was hoping you and your husband might be interested to adopt. I know you haven´t asked about him but I saw your name on more than one enquiry of other children from the last six months. You seem to be eager to have a child and this boy needs a home urgently. I mean they all do, but…" the woman laughed humorlessly. Unlike baby Harry´s case worker, or some other ladies who worked at the social services, Miss Stewart seemed compassionate. It sounded like she actually cared about what happened to the children she worked with.

"Tell me more about him, Miss Stewart," I encouraged the social worker.

"His name is Edward Masen. He is six years old. His family lives in Chicago, but while on a holiday in Seattle, they just left the boy behind. We ran his family name through the police database and found some… pretty ugly stuff. The mother, Elizabeth, has been arrested twice for hiding drugs in their apartment in Chicago. The father, Edward senior, raped two girls in his high school years but never went to prison. His parents were lawyers who were able to free their son from charges," What the social worker was telling me made me sick. How could any child live with parent like that?

"Since then, the neighbors have reported several times that they hear Elizabeth screaming during the night, and claim that her husband beats her. When the boy was found outside the CPS office, he didn´t have any signs of physical abuse on him. That was three days ago. He´s in a short-term foster home right now and the family is expecting some information from me in a couple of days. I will e-mail you his file for more details. Please call and tell me whether you think you can take him as soon as possible," Miss Steward ended the call after pleasant goodbyes and me promising that we would read Edward´s file.

When I ended the call with Miss Stewart, I guess a part of me already knew that whatever the file said, we wouldn´t turn away from Edward. Somehow, I was sure that Edward was our child.

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A/N: So, this is yet another journey to crazy land of writing for me. Like it? Hate it? Please review. Reviews make a happy writer. A happy writer writes faster ;)

- La Hija de la Luna


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Nope, still don´t own the characters. The storyline is mine, though.

_"Adoption is not about finding children for families, it's about finding families for children."_ (Joyce Maguire Pavao)

**Chapter 2: Edward**

The file wasn´t as thick as I had expected. It was quite thin, actually. Just a medical report, the boy´s personal information – or the parts of it that the Washington state had been able to gather, since the scumbags that Edward had been forced to call his parents for the first six years of his life had already left the state and hadn´t picked up their phone – and the results of a psychological evaluation, performed on the day after Edward was found just outside the CPS office in Seattle. I stared at the sheet of his personal data in my hands.

The paper stated that his full name was Edward Anthony Masen. He was born on June 20, 1994. There was basically no information about his biological family, save the names of his mother and father. The Washington state CPS had probably tried hard, but they couldn´t find out whether he had siblings. Neither Edward senior nor Elizabeth had any siblings and the boy had no grandparents alive. Given this information and the problems that sending Edward back to Illinois might cause, the state had decided to find him an adoptive family or a long-term foster home. There was a picture of him, attached to the paper that contained his personal information with a paper clip. He was the cutest little boy with his unruly bronze locks and shockingly green eyes. I swear, I have never seen eyes greener than that on anyone before. And I fell in love with him the moment I saw the photo. My heart beat faster and my whole body felt warmer. A smile spread onto my face when I looked at the picture. I wondered whether this was the way a mother felt when seeing her newborn baby for the first time.

"The child seemed introvert and somewhat uninterested during his meeting with the psychologist. The psychologist did most of the talking while the boy sat on the floor, holding a toy in his clenched fist, his position rigid," Carlisle read silently from the psych evaluation, "This is ridiculous. Surely _anyone_, especially a child his age, would act introvert after being separated from the only family he had ever known. And he wasn´t even a lost boy at the store. He was coldly left into the street, hoping that the social services finds him before anyone else," he huffed and let the paper drop from his hands and fall onto the table.

"Maybe they didn´t even hope that. Maybe they didn´t care who found him and just happened to leave him next to the CPS office building by accident," I mused. Carlisle seemed livid for the boy. It was rare to him this aggravated since he was usually the calmest man on the planet. It was one of his many good qualities that made sure that he was going to be a great father someday. I was just as angry at the no-good parents who just abandoned their child, in a strange state and city no less, with no care in the world. From what Miss Stewart and the files told me about his biological parents, it wasn´t hard to conclude that Mr. and Mrs. Masen were most likely drunk or on drugs when leaving their son.

"We have no choice, do we?" Carlisle asked me, a grin on his face.

"No, my dear husband, I don´t think we do. This boy is our child. Edward Anthony is _our son_," I answered with a big smile on my face. No matter what the boy had gone through before now, things would get better for him when he joins our family.

We called Miss Stewart back that afternoon, telling her that we most definitely were interested in adopting Edward. The weeks following the phone call were crazy. The final court decision of Edward´s parents being unfit to take care of their child was made four days after we got the file. After that we went through another mangle of interviews, home checks and medical evaluations, just like when we were on the training process to becoming adoptive parents.

It was the 24th of November when Carlisle and I met Edward for the first time. The meeting was arranged in the house of his temporary foster family. The couple that had taken Edward in seemed to be very nice, decent people.

"We would absolutely love to keep Edward with us, but our lack of space is a problem," Jasmine West, the mother, explained. She told us that they had four bedrooms – plus the master bedroom – and were currently fostering three children. There was Edward, of course, and then there was Janet, a beautiful 14-year-old girl with haunting dark eyes, and Roy, a 12-yar-old boy who was so tall that his height alone made him look older than he was.

"Janet will be leaving us next week and Roy probably in a month or two. But after Janet leaves the social services has asked us to take three girls more. But the thing is, we won´t take any more than four at a time, so that each child has their own room and is as comfortable as possible when staying with us," Dave, the father, continued, "These children have been through more than enough shit for a lifetime, and we want to make our house a pleasant place for them to be instead one those freaking money-making factories. Foster parents get paid, ya know, not a lot but still and some people take advantage on that, taking as many children into their house as possible and not taking care of them properly. Some kids have to sleep with the pets or on the floor, others are raped and abused. Those people ruin the whole fostering system. Oh God, Jas, how many children have we had come here completely terrified of they think we´re gonna do to them." Dave looked pained at the thought of those kids.

"Yes, sometimes it´s hard to be a short-term foster carer. We get a lot of difficult children who are just waiting a place in an institution, or in better cases they wait for an adoptive family. And almost always just the child starts to form a bond with us, and vice versa, he or she is snatched away. Even though we shouldn´t, we do get attached to these kids," Jasmine murmured, shaking her head and I was sure that I saw tears in her eyes.

"Anyway, Dave and I have probably been ranting for way too long, when all you probably want is just to see Edward. Please wait here while I go and get him," Jasmine said, smiling apologetically and headed upstairs where the bedrooms where located.

I have to admit, the first encounter with our future son was slightly awkward. We didn´t know what to say and neither did he. Jasmine and Dave – who had been in situations like this many times before, no doubt – were a great help. They encouraged Edward to show us his room at the foster home and talk about things he liked or didn´t like. The rest of the conversation came more easily when I and Carlisle started to ask questions about what he told us. Edward seemed – I cringed inwardly as the words of the psychologist of the child protective services came to mind – very apathetic. It took a while for him to get comfortable enough to say anything, and when he did, he muttered short answers to our questions while staring at the carpeted floor. I understood that awkwardness and fear were normal reactions to a situation like this, but still something in Edward´s behavior, something I couldn´t quite put my finger on, worried me and seemed somehow abnormal.

After we left the West family´s house that day, we met Edward one more time before he moved in with us. That day we were allowed to take him outside. We took him to have ice cream and he seemed to be slightly more relaxed than last time. We all were. But there was still the underlying awkwardness in him which worried me.

It was the 17th of December, 11.00 a.m., when adoption was finalized in a court room in Seattle. That day Edward Anthony Masen became officially Edward Anthony Cullen – and we had no idea what laid ahead of us.

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So that was chapter 2 of _A Home For The Children_. Sadly, I´m a very busy woman and don´t have much time to do any real research so if I have gotten any facts wrong about the adopting process I´m sorry and asking you to ignore my silly mistakes. Pretty please :) What do you think about my story so far? What do you think of little Edward? Please review! I won´t take much of your time, but it would make my day better :)

- La Hija de la Luna_  
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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **How many times do I have to tell you guys this? I DO NOT own Mrs. Meyer´s characters!

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_a-buse: bad or improper treatment; maltreatment. _( )

**Chapter 3: Parts of His Story**

Edward had been living with us for almost a week before the finalization of the adoption. Even though he didn´t keep us up at night, it was easy to see from the dark circles under his eyes that he did not sleep well. Actually, he seemed to sleep so little that it was alarming. He spoke so seldom that his quietness was almost eerie. He absolutely refused to call us Carlisle and Esme and stubbornly stuck with Dr. and Mrs. Cullen, as if we were complete strangers. Which, to him, we probably were, if you think about it. When we first started this process, we knew it wasn´t going to be easy in any way. But that knowledge didn´t change the fact that we were new with this and didn´t know what to do. We were about as lost as any other new parents. When I talked to a friend about my concerns just a few days before the finalization, her answer was: "Well, if it´s too hard, you shouldn´t adopt. You can still send him back." Needless to say, that was the end of that friendship.

Things went from bad to worse after the official adoption. After he found out that he was going to live with us for permanently, he shut down even more. The night after the finalization of the adoption, as I was putting him into bed, he asked about his biological parents.

"They´re not gonna come back this time, are they?" he mumbled, looking at the blue duvet that was spread over his legs. It really bothered me that he wouldn´t look at either of us in the eye while talking. I hesitated. I was worried that the hard truth of ´no` might be too much for this poor boy to handle. Yet, I didn´t want to lie either and so I chose the third route.

"What do you mean, honey?" I asked simply instead.

"This is what they do. They leave without me often. I think they forget me," Edward answered in a hushed tone and shrugged as if it wasn´t anything to worry about, as if it wasn´t a big deal. I thought that my heart was going to stop beating from the pain I felt for this child and he seemed calm and collected when talking about this. I figured it would be easier for me and Carlisle to help him once we knew more. It might also help his healing process if I got him to talk now, when he was willing to. Praying that I was doing the right thing for all of us, I forced myself to ask the next question.

"What did you do when you were left alone in Chicago?" I asked, clearing my throat and blinking to keep the tears at bay.

"It depends. Sometimes I clean the apartment for when Mom and Dad come back. There´s a nice lady living in the apartment below ours. Her name is Andrea. She lets me sleep over when my parents are out. Sometimes I play with Andrea´s son, Danny. He´s younger than I am, I think he just turned five. It´s just Andrea and Danny, Danny´s dad is in prison. Danny is scared that he´ll grow up to be bad like his Dad," I think he sounded kind of sad when talking about his friend but it wasn´t obvious.

"Sometimes I read when I´m alone. Andrea taught me how to," he continued, smiling a bit. It was easy to see that he enjoyed reading.

"That Andrea sounds like a nice woman," I commented, grateful that he had had at least one safe adult around in his life before us.

"She is. But Dad don´t like her. He says that she´s a fucking nigger. He says it because Andrea has very dark skin. Dad kicked Danny on the knee once when he saw us together. Then he spanked me for spending time with Danny. `My boy don´t play with niggers` he said," Edward sighed, shaking his head sorrowfully. His tone of voice made him sound like an old man who had seen way too much on his years. Filling my lungs with air, I prepared myself for my next question.

"Edward, did your father hit you often? Or did your mother?" I asked. He didn´t answer right away, instead he seemed deep in thought.

"Nah, not all that often. Sometimes dad would spank me for doing something wrong and once he used a hot metal stick to burn me. It was because of Sammy. Mom never hit me. Some kids in our neighborhood have it worse. Some of them are beaten until they bleed every day. I´ve seen it," Edward spoke about all of this as if it didn´t bother him at all. I got a feeling that when he talked about the other children, he wasn´t completely truthful. Sure, if I thought about his biological parents I wouldn´t find it hard to believe that he´d lived in a slum kind of environment, seeing other children hurt just like he had been hurt. My intuition told me, however, that by telling about the situation of then others, he was trying to distract me. That poor boy was probably trying to cover up his parents wrong-doings, defend them. Because the scars I had seen on him while he changed into pajamas told a very different story than the words ´not that often´. If someone had asked me to guess, I would have said that Edward had been beaten often. And brutally. He had scars on his back that looked like cigarette burns. Other burns looked like they had been caused with an iron.

"You said that your dad burned you because of Sammy. Who is S-Sammy?" I tried very hard to keep my voice steady. I would need to stay strong here, otherwise Edward might never be able to trust me. At the adoption training, we had been warned that we might have to listen to horrifying stories told by our children and that in these situations we should try our best to stay strong for the little person who was brave enough to tell us their story. Or parts of it. We might never – as one of the instructors, an adoptive mother herself, had pointed out – know all of it.

"Sammy is a stray cat. It´s just a kitten, really. Nobody was feeding it and once I gave him some food. He always kept coming back for more and he even let me pet himself sometimes. One time, my Dad saw me going outside with some food for Sammy. When I came back inside he had this stick in his hands and he burned me with it. It kinda hurt. But I promise, Mrs. Cullen, I never stopped feeding poor Sammy. I am more careful and Dad hasn´t seen me with him again," Edward ended his story. His father had _burned_ him for _feeding a stray cat_? That was something every kid would do! I couldn´t stop the tears I had been holding back from pooling out anymore. I cried for this boy´s unluckiness and the stoic way he spoke about it. I cried for the fact that Edward had been officially our son for less than twenty-four hours and I had already let him down by breaking down like this, in front of him no less. I was very scared. What if we wouldn´t be able to help this child who had been through too much during his short life?

I could feel almost feather light touch on my back. I raised my eyes and saw Edward touching my back, trying to comfort me. He had just told me stories about his painful past and abusive parents and_ he_ was comforting _me_?

"You shouldn´t cry, Mrs. Cullen. It´s fine. Everything is alright. Andrea used to cry sometimes too when I told her what Dad had done. But I never understand why. There are kids in worse situations. I can take care of myself," he said. He sounded so wise, as if he was at least twenty years older than his chronological age. No scratch that, even a 26-year-old, or a 70-year-old, wouldn´t be able to act that adult in his situation.

"Mrs. Cullen, you and Dr. Cullen have been nothing but nice to me and I have liked being here with you very much," Edward started, sounding certain about something for the first time since I had known him, "but after tonight, I would like to go back home." After that, there was nothing but silence from him.

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A/N: Hi there! How did you like that? Fine? Great? Horrible? I feel so sorry for poor Edward =( But he is a tough kid and will pull through... I think. I´m not at all sure where I am taking this story, so leave a review and tell me what kind of situations would you like our characters to find themselves in. I have the outline planned but there is always room for more details... and more drama =D And even the outline can be changed so please throw ideas to me.

Until next time,

- La Hija de la Luna


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Needless to say, anything in this story that belongs to Miss Meyer does not belong to me. I´m writing this damned thing only for the heck of it.

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_prog-ress: a movement toward a goal__ or to a further or higher __stage_ (Dictionary . com)

Chapter 4: Progress

"He said he wanted to go back!" I screeched, "He wants go back to those people who just left him like that! They hit him and burned him and he would rather go back than live with us! What are we doing wrong, Carlisle?" I was angry with myself than more anything else. Edward had been with us for less than two weeks and we had already messed up so badly that he wants to return to his alcoholic, drug addict biological parents. It was probably me. Carlisle was great with kids and Edward was no exception. They seemed to get along great which means that I must have done something wrong.

When Edward presented his plea of returning to Chicago, I froze up. Everything just stopped. My muscles or my mouth wouldn´t work and I could have sworn that the little, blue clock on the bedside table stopped ticking. I was fairly certain that for those few seconds, the world stopped spinning. After the agonizing seconds everything started again and I had to stutter a response to my adoptive son´s sentence. I dimly remembered uttering something in the lines of me being sorry but going back not being an option. And then I just left him for the night. Like the _great parent_ I am. I know it´s not an excuse but I had been very shocked at that moment. In fact, I was still shocked and confused and most of all, angry at myself, when I told Carlisle what had gone down between me and Edward.

"Esme, love, you have done nothing wrong. In fact, you've been great. It´s just that he probably misses Chicago," Carlisle stated.

"He misses that life?" I asked incredulously.

"It might seem odd to us, but it´s the only life he has ever known. Of course he misses it. To us, it seems like a horrific story, the kind that you might read on a newspaper article – and it is horrific, that´s not what I´m saying – but to him it was his daily life. He most likely did not like being hurt or left by his parents, but he didn´t see it as unjustified. To Edward it was normal. The human mind can adapt to almost anything and then convince itself that everything is just fine. That everything is the way it´s supposed to be," Carlisle said with a sigh.

"But how do we help him? Can we? What if we just aren´t the right people to be his parents? I don´t even know how to explain this situation to him," I worried.

"I believe that he is meant to be with us," Carlisle answered confidently, "We should try to talk to him tomorrow, the both of us together. He might not even understand what is going on here. It may be that no one has ever told him what adoption actually means. Or he might just not be willing to fully realize what he´s been told. After all, `since your parents left you, we are going to ship you off to live with two strangers´ doesn´t sound too good to a little boy."

"You´re right. We really ought to talk to Edward in the morning and then just give him time to try and adjust. This must be a lot for him to take in, after all."

That night seemed to go on and on for forever. I couldn´t close my eyes without seeing pictures of Edward being spanked by his parents over some little thing that any boy his age would do. I was also worried about tomorrow. How would Edward take it when we told him that he was really with us to stay. Would he break down and cry? Blatantly refuse to listen to us? How had he reacted at his social worker´s office when she – if at all – tried to tell him what being adopted meant?

As the sun rose the next morning so did my anxiety. If I was being honest with myself, I would have to admit that I didn´t understand what made me so nervous. I was going to face the six-year-old who lived under our roof, not a multi-headed monster who would be able to take my life just because it felt like it. I forced myself to get out of bed and went to take a shower. After a hot, and rather relaxing, shower I returned to our bedroom to get dressed. I noticed Carlisle wasn´t in the bed anymore and I could hear hushed voices downstairs. He must have already gone to make breakfast and judging by the sounds of conversation, Edward was up too. A part of me, a cowardly and childish part, wanted to hide up here for the rest of the morning and let Carlisle have the dreaded conversation with Edward. But I knew better. Carlisle and I would need to work as a team to ensure that Edward was safe and _felt_ safe. Considering the given circumstances I imagine that the second part would be harder to achieve. I knew I had no choice, so I took a deep, cleansing breath and headed down the stairs.

They were in the kitchen. Carlisle was, as I had suspected, making breakfast and Edward sat on one of the chairs that were situated next to the wooden kitchen table. His legs were tugged underneath him on the chair, his jaw was clenched and he wouldn´t tear his gaze from the table top as he answered Carlisle´s questions in a silent voice and as shortly as possible, like he always did. It was easy to see from Carlisle´s posture and facial expression that the conversation was mainly small talk about daily things, and yet the child was tense, as if someone was interrogating him. I grew more nervous about the upcoming adoption theme. If this was how Edward reacted to normal interaction between people, I was worried that bringing up something serious would break him into pieces like a blow would a porcelain doll. I cleared my throat, making by presence known and Edward jumped in his chair.

"Good morning, you two," I greeted as cheerfully as I could manage. Edward answered with a silent: "Good morning, Mrs. Cullen." Carlisle´s answer was a deep kiss. I tried not to giggle like a schoolgirl. Even after all the years we had been married, and all the problems we had had in the past, Carlisle´s kisses never stopped turning me into jelly. Edward stared at us, looking puzzled.

"Why would you want to kiss each other?" he asked. I was delighted. This was the first time that he ever asked something himself, instead of always answering our enquiries.

"Esme and I love each other so we kiss. There´s nothing strange about that," Carlisle answered.

"Mom and Dad never kiss. Maybe they don´t each other either, I don´t know. But they don´t kiss," Edward mumbled, returning his gaze to the table top, as if it was some interesting object that was worth looking at. Most children would have been devastated at the thought of their Mom and Dad not loving one another but Edward talked about it in the same tone one would speak about weather. _He didn´t see it as unjustified. To Edward it was normal_ Carlisle´s words from the night before came to mind and my heart twisted. To this boy, living in a home where no one loved no one was completely normal. His parents didn´t share any gestures of endearment towards each other and Edward certainly wasn´t loved or cared for the way a child should be loved and cared for. But now Edward had a home with us and that would change.

"Edward, Esme told me what happened last night," Carlisle started, clearing his throat, "You said that you wanted to go back to your old life. And the fact is that you cannot. Did anyone ever explain to you what adopting means?"

"Yeah, the lady from the social services did. I live with you now and you are my new parents," Edward´s voice was still void of any emotion. It was as if he was reciting the conditions of a business contract.

"Yes, you live with us now. And some things will be different than in your old home. There will be no violence and no lonely nights. And I think you should get used to seeing me and Esme kissing," Carlisle added the last part with a spark of humor in his eyes. Everything else he said though, I knew, was deadly serious. We would never do anything to hurt Edward. We would never do anything to hurt any child, and I could not understand why and how someone could.

"And we love you. Even though you aren´t our flesh and blood, you are a son to us. But in order for us to become your new parents, as you put it, you need accept us. And we would never force you to accept us. We just want you to know that if there´s anything you need help with or want to talk about, you can come to us," I continued, blinking away the tear that were threatening to spill out of my eyes. I loved this boy. I loved him so much. And it didn´t matter to me if he never found the courage to call me `Mom´.

"We love you, son," Carlisle said, his voice rough with emotion.

"P-please, don´t call me that. I am not your son. I don´t deserve to be," Edward whimpered in response, covering his ears as if hearing that word caused him pain. An overwhelming urge to hug him came over me. I just wanted to hold him until everything got better. Yet I knew that might not be wise. He wasn´t ready for us to call him our son and that made me fairly certain that physical contact wasn´t acceptable either. It might do more harm than good at this point.

"You do deserve to be and to us you are," Carlisle answered, smiling sadly.

"I don´t have to call you Mom and Dad?" he asked, ignoring Carlisle´s protests.

"No, you don´t. But I think that I can speak for Carlisle too, when I say that we would like if you called us by our first names," I suggested.

"Okay, I will try to remember that, E-Esme," said Edward, offering me a shy smile. The smile I gave him was probably big enough to split my face. For the first time since Edward moved in, I felt like we were making some progress.

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A/N: First of all, I want to tell all of you guys who have reviewed, added this on favorites or alerts and to those who have just read this, how TOTALLY AWESOME you are! Keep reviewing please! And most importantly, if you´re still sticking with _moi_, keep reading! I absolutely love you people =) What did you think of this chapter? Did you see that as progress? I know Esme did =)

Until next time,

- La Hija de la Luna


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Don´t own anything that belongs to Miss Meyer

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_cry: to utter inarticulate sounds, especially of lamentation, grief, or suffering, usually with tears. _(Dictionary . com)

**Chapter 5: A Breakdown**

I don´t know what woke me up that night. It could have been the feeling that something was missing. Or I may have rolled over and met an empty and cold spot on the sheets where my husband was supposed to lay. Whatever it was I woke up with a start. It was still dark outside and the light of the moon made the shadows in the room longer. The red numbers of the digital alarm clock read _4:55_. I was just about to fall back asleep thinking that Carlisle was probably in the bathroom, when I noticed something odd. There was faint light streaming into the bedroom from underneath the door that lead to the hallway. I was certain that Carlisle had turned the hallway light off when we went to bed. So why was it on know?

I got up, walked to the door and pulled it open as silently as possible – Edward was probably asleep and I didn´t want to wake him up – and peered out. The hallway light was on alright and my tired brain was idly wondering why. I squinted against the bright, yellow light that was such a contrast to the darkness of our bedroom. The sounds of someone moving around downstairs – in the kitchen to be precise – could be heard clearly. For a split second I wondered what on Earth was going on down there and considered calling out a hello. However, I decided against it. This was probably nothing. Carlisle was most likely up as he had hard time sleeping sometimes because his body had gotten used to the nightly work shifts at the hospital during the years. And, as I reminded myself again, it was better not to wake up Edward. The boy had enough trouble sleeping as it was. Not that he talked about it. Every time Carlisle or I asked him whether he was sleeping well, he hardly ever answered. If we were lucky we got an `okay´ or a `fine` out of him, which were clearly lies. You didn´t have to be an expert on insomnia to see the dark circles under his eyes and the almost sickly pale color of his skin caused by exhaustion. As much as it pained me to see him suffer, I decided not to push the issue too much. Edward would need to learn to come to us when something troubled him instead of having us forcefully pull every word out of him. I did, however, ask him every day whether he had anything in his mind that he wanted to share with me or Carlisle. The answer was always ´no`. ´No, Esme` on good days and ´No, Mrs. Cullen, thank you for asking` on bad ones. The progress we seemed to make when he called me by my first name hadn´t been instant. Still, after almost four weeks, he´d still revert back to calling us `Mrs. Cullen` and `Doctor Cullen` whenever he was anxious or scared, which he was a lot. The overly polite mannerisms that plagued Edward´s behavior whenever he was stressed scared me. I knew that those manners were not normal for a boy his age and that they were probably taught to him by beatings and threats. Carlisle and I put a lot of effort into convincing Edward that it was okay to be impolite – or in the least informal – every now and again. But he wouldn´t listen or maybe he was too afraid to relax enough to even think about our words.

I decided to check the situation downstairs myself. My heart was beating wildly as I tried to rein the irrational fear. Surely it had to be Carlisle who was in the kitchen. Otherwise he would be in bed. I heard the person leave the kitchen and walk into the living room. I tiptoed down the stairs until I was on the last step, still far enough away from the kitchen and the living room so that I wouldn´t been – just in case it wasn´t who I thought it was. I, however, could see both into the kitchen and the living room from my hiding spot. There were two figures sitting on the couch in the dark living room, one seemed to be holding something in their hands. I waited for my eyes to get used to the darkness and as my vision got clearer I recognized the shapes. The larger, taller one with blonde hair was – as I had suspected to begin with – Carlisle. The smaller figure and the untamed reddish hair belonged to our adoptive son. I saw that Carlisle had two mugs of steaming liquid in his hands and he passed one of them to Edward.

"Drink it. It´s just hot cocoa. I make it often when I can´t fall asleep. The warmness helps me relax enough to be able to sleep," Carlisle says. Edward accepts the mug but immediately puts it onto the coffee table without touching the drink. He was sizing Carlisle up, like a boxer would his opponent, trying to figure out how much damage this man could cause. I shook my head, grief-stricken. How could Edward think that Carlisle was going to hurt him? Carlisle was the kind of a man who wouldn´t hurt a fly. On the other hand, not being hurt and neglected wasn´t something that Edward was used to. He most likely thought that our kindness was some kind of a trick a mess with his head before we attacked. Only time would show him that we never would.

"My body is so used to the nightly working hours that it sometimes wakes itself up at the most ungodly hour. What is your excuse?" my husband asked and I could hear the humor in his voice. Edward, however, could not. He stiffened immediately, his eyes wandered towards the staircase and he was no doubt wondering how quickly he could leap from the sofa and make his way upstairs, to the safety of his room and if he did so what the consequences for running would be. Carlisle noticed Edward´s alarm and sighed. It sounded like he was willing to kick himself on the head for causing Edward to panic.

"I am not at all angry at you for staying up. I just want to help you. Do you have dreams?" Carlisle´s voice was gentler, softer and I had to focus to hear him. Even in the dim light I could see Edward starting to shake as he nodded.

"Every night he comes," our son mumbled, more to himself than to Carlisle.

"Who does?" Carlisle asked gently. His eyes were wide and he struggled to stay calm. He could sense, just like I did, that there was something more to this than a regular little boy´s monsters in the closet –kind of thing. This was something that could possibly shed some light on the horrors of Edward´s sad past.

"Willy. I´m back with Mom and Dad and he comes every night. Just like he did in real life. I think he and Dad had some deal or something. After Willy is done with me, he always gives Dad a little bag of white pills. I once asked Dad what the pills were for and he said that Mom needed them because she was having pain in her legs. But I saw him take the pills too. Both Mom and Dad take them and it makes them happier for a while," Edward had paled during his speech and his shaking intensified. He was heading towards a full panic attack and seeing my son´s distress I decided that I had played more than enough hide and seek for one night. I stepped into their line of view. Carlisle noticed me first.

"I heard you," I mouthed to him and sat down on a loveseat next to the couch. Edward noticed me then and jumped up, ready to bolt towards the stairs.

"Shh, son, it´s just Esme. You´re fine. Nothing bad is going to happen. Just sit back down," Carlisle coaxed soothingly. Edward did as he was told, obviously too afraid to defy Carlisle. It didn´t escape my notice that he had once again cringed at the familial term used. Even after over a month that single word made him flinch even though we used it often to get him used to it.

"I know this is hard, Edward. Could you tell me what Willy did to you when he came to see your parents?" my husband pressed. It was easy to hear that Carlisle had a hard time controlling his anger when thought about how many people might have hurt our son. I was terrified and tried very hard not to cry. There would be time for me and my husband to deal with our feelings later. Right now our focus needed to be on our little boy. Edward hesitated, opening his mouth then closing it again.

"He would spank me. He hit me until my back bled. Dad always w-watched but never stopped him. Sometimes he would put his hands on my throat and I couldn´t breathe. He took pictures after he was done, laughed with Dad saying something about showing them to his friends. Then he´d give the pills to Dad and leave," Edward finished. His shaking had once again intensified; the tremors were so bad that he seemed to struggle to sit upright. Without saying a word Carlisle moved to sit closer to him on the couch, wrapping his arms around the child´s shoulders. Usually, if one of us tried to hug him, Edward would move away as quickly as possible. This time he acted differently though. He fisted his hands around the fabric of Carlisle´s t-shirt and buried his face into Carlisle´s chest. Encouraged by the boy´s behavior, Carlisle tightened his hold just a bit. Not enough to make Edward uncomfortable, just so that the boy could feel that he was happy to hold him and willing to offer the tiny bit of comfort he could. Edward breathed in a shuddering breath and the dams broke. He started sobbing openly. I was probably the only parent in the world that was happy to hear her child crying. Or actually I wasn´t happy at all. The sound grated on my ears and ripped my heart into pieces. I would have liked to do whatever it took to make him better without that he´d have to experience this kind of pain. Yet I knew that it was good for Edward to cry. It meant he was working through the memories of his horrible life before us.

Even with this knowledge I couldn´t not do anything. I moved from the loveseat to the couch, sitting next to Edward. I moved slowly, tried my hardest not to startle him as I sat down. I started to rub his back slowly, comfortingly, as he relived his scary memories.

"You´re fine now. Nothing like that is ever going to happen again. It´s going to be alright," Carlisle whispered to Edward, never loosening his hold on our son. We sat there, holding Edward, until the first rays of sun entered the living room through the window.

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A/N: First off I want to say thank you to all the lovely people who have reviewed or added AHFTC to their alert or favorites list. I love every single one of you! Secondly I want to ask, as always, what did you think of that? Anything about this story that you feel that I could do better? I´m open to any and every suggestion or inspiration. Give me an idea and I´ll be happiest person on the Earth. And did I mention that I adore everyone who reads this story? ;) Please review!

Until next time,

- La Hija de la Luna


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Still don´t own Twilight! The idea for this story is mine though.

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_"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."_ (Lao Tzu)

**Chapter 6: Snow Globe**

It seemed like a miracle.

The whole scene that day was something you might expect to see in a movie about a perfect, happy family. Even though things went from bad to worse in matter of hours, the moment that lasted only few seconds was perfect, something that a happy family would have experienced. I didn´t realize the beauty of those seconds until way later.

And we were many things, but anyone in their right mind would not have called us a happy family then. Just few weeks earlier, Carlisle had been on the verge of losing his job. I wasn´t quite sure I understood what it all about, but it had something to do with the time off he took when we had planned – and finalized – Edward´s adoption. The hospital started giving Carlisle a hard time, because they couldn´t keep paying a doctor who was never there for a job he never did. Their words, not mine. He had to work like an animal to prove the hospital that he was able and willing to do his job even if he had a son now. During the month of December he was – it seemed – at the hospital all the time.

He managed to get Christmas Eve off, but it wasn´t much of consolation, since we didn´t celebrate much. I had tried to organize a nice family celebration but Edward didn´t act like he should have. Oh, who am I kidding, Edward always acted properly, like a robot, and that´s what scared me so much that I was unable to enjoy the day.

He got quite a few presents from us as well as our other relatives who we´re happy for us now that we had a little boy and happy for him now that he had a family. Edward didn´t show any kind of excitement for the gifts he had received. He thanked like the little gentleman he was but did not seem all that happy. Afterwards I knew I should have thought about it more, but that night I just selfishly worried whether or not my presents were to his liking. A week later I found a t-shirt he had gotten for Christmas torn apart under his bed and a brand new toy car broken and stuffed inside his closet. I asked him about those and he just insisted it was the cat. Which was extremely interesting since we didn´t have a cat. I was secretly insulted but let it be. Maybe I just had done something wrong, again

.A few days after the toy-and-shirt incident, Carlisle announced that he was off the hook with work and would be able to spend more time with us now. That´s how we ended up cleaning the basement that day, all three of us. Carlisle moved the boxes when needed, I cleaned the floor and Edward packed some of our old stuff from the shelves into boxes. The atmosphere was relaxed and everyone was quiet, focused on their task. I raised my gaze from the floor and looked at my family. Carlisle stood still, holding a box, his arms and shoulders tense from the weight of it, trying to figure out where to put it so that it wouldn´t be on my way. His eyes met my gaze and he smiled widely. He seemed happy to be home instead of work even though the task was as mundane as cleaning. Edward was swirling an old snow globe around in his hands, staring at it intently as if he had never seen one before. Which, come to think of it, he probably hadn´t.

"Dad, look!" he whispered, his eyes full of wonder, trying to get Carlisle´s attention. Carlisle immediately turned around and looked at our son, his face a mask of surprise and happiness. Edward had never called him Dad before. Then Edward himself realized what he had done, his eye flied wide open, he was terrified.

"I´m so sorry, Carlisle. I didn´t mean it," he said horrified. The glass snow globe fell from his hands. The sound of glass breaking scared him even more and he bolted to the basement stairs. Before I had time to react I could hear him running up the stairs and to his room.

We gave him a moment and cleaned the shattered glass from the basement floor. Afterwards we went upstairs and knocked on his door. The door was locked.

"No, no, no. Please don´t come in. Please not again," Edward screamed hysterically.

"Honey, please let us in," I begged, desperation clear in my voice. He was very upset right now and there was no telling what he might do. There was no answer, aside from the now unintelligible screaming and mumbling from the other side of the door. Those were not sounds made by a human boy. Those were the last sounds of an animal slaughtered.

"Son, please, just open the door. Nobody here is going do anything bad to you," Carlisle tried. The constant screaming ceased, but Edward still didn´t open his door.

"Don´t call me that," he hissed, his voice barely loud enough to carry to us. We heard it anyway and that was the last straw for me. I am ashamed to admit that I just walked away. I entered the master bedroom, slamming the door behind me like a teenager in the middle of a hissy fit. Carlisle followed after me.

"There´s got to be a way to undo the adoption. We cannot help him! He´s too troubled. He´s not making any effort to fit into this family, why should we? Why not just try and send him back to the CPS? Surely they would take him if we told them that he´s turned his room into a fortification," I raved, pacing back and forth frantically.

"Esme…" my husband tried cut in but I wouldn´t let him.

"Do you know what I found in his room? I found Christmas presents, broken and torn into pieces. He had tried to hide his doings and when I asked him about them, he blamed the cat. What cat? We don´t have a cat! I don´t understand why he lied. He doesn´t want to be called our son and he doesn´t seem to want any kind of gifts from us either. I´m so confused about his behavior," I was nearly in hysterics at that point.

"Honey, Edward is a troubled little boy. I can´t understand him most of the time, either. But I do know one thing. He needs us just as much as we need him. We just need to remember not to expect miracles. Think about how far he has come. He´s able to call us by our first names already and when he called me dad… I don´t know how to describe how happy that made me. To me that proves that he wants to be a part of this family. He just doesn´t know how to. Calling me dad probably scared the shit out of him," said Carlisle, his voice rough.

"I´m just not sure I have the power to help Edward or to keep fighting to get him to love us. It´s not only the Christmas gifts that he broke. In a way, with his robotic behavior, he´s destroyed everything we tried to give him. Our love and respect, the warm atmosphere of our home. I love that boy so much but I don´t know if I have the strength to keep doing what we are doing," I was sobbing now. my whole body shook. Carlisle wrapped his arms around me and hushed me.

"Shh, Esme. I can only imagine how tired you must be. You´re the one who has to deal with his behaviors every single minute of every day. I understand your frustration but we are not giving up. You said you love Edward, and I do too, and that´s enough. The rest of it we will figure out. I love you," his voice was calm and reassuring. He wasn´t angry about my outburst. More or less, he understood and wanted to remind me that I was not alone in this. We had decided to adopt Edward together and we would look after him together. My patient love held me for another moment before slowly releasing me and looking me into the eyes.

"Why don´t you stay here for a moment longer? If our boy saw you like this, he would freak out, even more so than he already has. I am going to go and see if Edward lets me into his fortification. Please follow me once you feel better," Carlisle whispered to me with a small smile and left the room.

He was right. Even though we´re in this together, right now it was better that Carlisle dealt with this crisis on his own, at least until I was calmer.

Just moments later, I could hear a door opening on the other end of the hallway and quiet voices speaking. If I had to guess I would have said that Edward had pretty much lost his voice because of all the screaming he had done. The door was gently closed soon and I knew that Edward had let Carlisle in. It was then that I realized that we had made some progress again, even though it didn´t feel like a victory. Baby steps.

I took a deep breath, let it out slowly and turned to the window, staring at our front yard. Outside the wind was gentle and little snowflakes were falling to the white ground.

Just like on the inside of a snow globe.

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A/N: Hey there everyone! I´m sorry I haven´t been writing in a long time but RL got kind of out of hand. Anyway, things are calmer now and I hope to post more regularly in the future. So how did you guys like this? Was this just a one time thing or is Esme losing it? Opinions, opinions, people! Any and every review is very, very appreciated ;)

See ya,

- La Hija de la Luna


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